


Sleep

by shittershutter



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 10:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20256538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittershutter/pseuds/shittershutter
Summary: They don'tsleepsleep together for the longest time. Diego's not a fan of physical affection without a cause. Now, he can be provoked by the puppy eyes or accidentally stumble into it by a well-placed kiss but if there is a natural instinct for this in him, it's buried deep.





	Sleep

Diego washes the blood off, cleans up a few deeper cuts across the planes of his face and chews on the remains of teriyaki whatever he manages to dig out from under Luther's pristinely packaged lunchboxes and protein shakes. 

The apartment is asleep around him just like the city is outside the bricks and the glass. That's the world Diego belongs to, the creature of the night that he is, the one that makes sense to him. There is a fragile balance between the most dangerous and the most serene one can walk into only when the night is the darkest and that's where he is. 

Diego stays awake in the kitchen, legs on the table, rocking the chair a little until the adrenaline leaves him through the air from his lungs and the sweat from his pores. He sits tight until the violence no longer has its grip on him, then moves to the bedroom, soundless and smooth in his movement, like a shadow on the brick wall. 

As he walks, his pride almost gives in for him to admit to himself that he's home early, earlier than he would be all those years before specifically and only because Luther doesn't like to spend his nights alone. 

Like a mountain ridge under the layers of snow, Luther sleeps under the covers in front of him, immense and unmoving. 

They don't _sleep_ sleep together for the longest time. Diego's not a fan of physical affection without a cause. Now, he can be provoked by the puppy eyes or accidentally stumble into it by a well-placed kiss but if there is a natural instinct for this in him, it's buried deep.

The adorable cuddling and farting under the same blanket is not his shtick so every time as soon as he remembers how to move his legs, he gets up, wraps something, anything he can grab around himself and leaves the room without turning back to curl on the sofa. The coffin sleeping, Klaus calls it, just the right amount of space that is tight and comforting.

The entire demarche gets stale after a while and as the fucking itself gets better and better it's harder and harder to make the limbs work to run away after. And Luther's not always warm, but always so peaceful, so inviting. 

The moon has fucked up the big guy's thermoregulation and he's rarely of optimal or even humanly possible temperature, but when he is it's just too cozy to leave. Most of the time, though, he's either burning so hot Diego has to scoot away or cold to the point he has to mold himself against the bigger body to share some of his own warmth. 

In any case, there is no Diego's sofa anymore, there is _his and Luther's_ bed. 

Diego has his side in it, his pillow and the bedside table he stuffs with sharp objects to the point the drawlers are hard to open. All that because once, in the middle of his exodus as the duvet drags across the floor behind him like a cape, he does turn around to look back at the man he's left on the bed. 

Luther looks heartbroken. Lonely and somehow smaller, not the way someone should look after a good fuck. Diego's heart spasms painfully from the sight. 

The look is gone in seconds -- Luther's so good at catching himself, trained to do so -- and Diego's not the one to run back so he keeps walking but his feet are heavy and his heart is heavier. 

He stays the next time and the next. 

It's one of Luther's freezing days judging how he's wrapped himself in layers and closed the windows. Diego cracks his fingers and circles the bed looking for a corner he can yank to get a piece of the blanket in a non-violent way. 

There isn't any so he digs his knee in and pulls. It's like the awakening of an ancient monster mom would read him (and Ben would tell him) about as a child. Luther starts moving, growling and Diego pulls until he has enough fabric for himself.

Then he mounts the monster, arms, and legs around him, and hisses in his ear to dip him back into unconsciousness. 

Mostly asleep, Luther recognizes him. It's the smell, the touch or the maneuver that does it. He goes boneless in Diego's arms and after some mumbling under his breath returns to snoring with that volume and frequency that Diego still finds adorable, not a reason enough to smother him with the pillow. 

This spontaneous hug Diego does -- the only hug he's capable of outside of desperate grabbing at the man when they fuck -- has sent him flying across the room the first few times he attempted it. They've come so far since then. 

Diego sighs with content and lets him go to weasel his way under the covers. The body moves then and flops on top of him in an answering and even less adequate cuddle attempt. 

The dude's heavy. His size notwithstanding, there is unforgiving (and hot) density to him dad probably has an explanation for in one of his journals. The explanation they all collectively better off not knowing, he's sure. 

Diego is not going to go down like this. He squirms and aligns his knee with Luther's kidney to kick him a few times -- gently by his standards -- to put him in motion and mold him around himself until he's not directly on top. 

The arm still stays tight around him and Luther's thick skull is resting on his chest but that's okay. For a short time, Diego can pretend he's enjoying it. It's not like the other guy is fully present to witness the moment. 

"Okay," Diego whispers. Mostly to himself, but also to soothe the whimpers under the man's breath. "Okay". 

He rubs his face against the coarseness of Luther's buzzcut. To scratch his nose, he tells himself, but also because he likes the smell of the big guy's hair (what's left of it rather). He gives it twenty minutes max, the gentle nuzzling, and the cuddling, but falls asleep in under five and stays in place. 

It's still dark when he opens his eyes again but the darkness starts turning grey around the edges and there is a distant pulsating buzz of the city waking up outside their window. 

There is also a wet soft sound -- he hears the kisses before he's awake enough to feel them -- of the mouth moving along the side of his head and his neck. He's on his side, pressed tightly against the bigger body and Luther's gnawing on him lazily to wake him up. 

"I'd ask what you're up to but that'd be such a waste of syllables," Diego croaks and pushes back until the hot length of the man's cock is pressing against his lower back. It feels endless, the burning of it, from his tailbone to the shoulder blades. 

"My kidney hurts," Luther mumbles through the intensifying kissing, his tongue pulsating inside Diego's ear. So deep it feels like he can poke his brain with it. "I don't know why". 

"You should go easy on the broccoli, it's only good in moderation". 

The man hums in agreement. Then again, he's so hard he probably has no idea what he's agreeing with. But fuck broccoli, if there is any questionable influence tactic Diego can use to get that crap out of _their_ house, he's using it with no guilt whatsoever. 

Luther pushes his shirt up and his boxers down, fits himself along the cleft of the smaller man's ass and starts moving. 

He wants him inside. Every time Luther bumps against his hole with the head of his cock, he's reminded of the emptiness. His body shivers in anticipation then shudders in protest over and over. 

He can't have it. The monstrosity Luther has in his pants is not something Diego can just shove up his ass whenever he feels like it (although he does feel like it a lot). It takes time, care, willpower, and precision. Diego would rather stay like this today, warm, and held tight, and tittering on the edge of sleep when every sensation is familiar but heavier, more intense and slightly distorted. 

He won't remember how this felt come morning and that's a pity.

Luther's hand is heavy around his waist and he holds on to it, fingers linked, as the man humps his thigh with the enthusiasm of a horny teenager and the smoothness of a very capable adult. The wet trail his cock leaves never dries. 

The hot breaths in his ear grow louder and louder until they're deafening, until Luther's heartbeat against his back is so strong he can feel it vibrating against his teeth, getting stuck in his own throat. 

If there was ever a moment to tell Luther he loved him, it'd be now. Between the dream and the reality, without seeing his face but feeling him all over, his strength, his warmth, his desire. The most appropriate moment. The one he can easily pretend never happened after. 

Diego's breath hitches and he wonders if he's just said it out loud or just could taste it on his tongue but then swallowed it down successfully. 

Luther is not breathing as well and then grabs him, turns him on his back and kisses him sloppily, the mouth, the jaw, the cheeks. 

He grinds down, their cocks sliding against each other as their tongues do. Diego can't tell who stops first but he's drowning in come and saliva and only his arms around Luther's shoulders hold him on the surface. 

He doesn't even know where his legs are. The big guy is fully on top of him now and the weight is a challenge for the ribs but he does not mind it this time.

No one is cleaning up the mess and as they drag each other down into a dreamless sleep with lazy kisses to random bodyparts neither is awake enough to confirm or deny that Luther says "I love you" back.


End file.
